


A Series of Firsts

by leon_di



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awkwardness, Boys In Love, Communication Failure, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Firsts, Friends to Lovers, Gay, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Nervousness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Slice of Life, Sloppy Makeouts, Snapshots, Sort Of, Spooning, Teenagers, Voyeurism, a little bit, and everything that comes with those two things, neither of them know what theyre doing, sorta - Freeform, wink wonk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-09-11 22:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leon_di/pseuds/leon_di
Summary: snapshots into sal and larry's relationship, from awkward adolescence to young adulthood.i'm bad at summaries but its basically just cataloging the progression of sal and larry's relationship with a series of "firsts." it gets raunchier later.check chapter notes for specifics.





	1. First Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> sal's pov: first realization. its a short one.

Sal wasn’t sure when he had started… noticing things. Really specific things. Things that were probably irrelevant to literally everyone else but meant the world to him because they were all Larry.

It started out with mannerisms that everybody observed, Sal told himself. The way Larry would make little guitar strumming motions whenever he got really into a song they were listening to. The little scrunched faces he would make when he was concentrating. The times when they were alone in Larry’s room and he would borrow a headband from his mom so his hair wouldn’t hang in his face while he painted.

But as time went on it got harder and harder for Sal to convince himself that this wasn’t toeing the semi-platonic line between best buds and… something else. Sal found himself staring at Larry’s bare arms whenever he wore a t-shirt, tracing the tendons in his wrist with his gaze and counting the veins that were visible under the skin. Or watching his feet when they walked together and memorizing his gait. And then there was the time Larry left his jacket at Sal’s apartment and he was going to bring it back, he really was, but then he listened to that little voice in the back of his skull that told him to put it on put it on put it on, and it absolutely fucking engulfed him. And then that got Sal into thinking about Larry, which had been becoming more and more dangerous as of late, and how tall and long he was, and then he had to take the jacket off and stuff it into the back of his closet because that brought on feelings that he didn’t know where to place or what to do with and he needed to do something else immediately. 

And now here they were, sitting in bean bags and playing some dumb video game in Sal’s room. Or, they had been. They had paused it to microwave popcorn and all intentions of going back to the game that Sal once had were thrown out the fucking window when Larry went “dude, watch this,” and proceeded to crane his head back and throw a piece of popcorn in the air, trying to angle himself to catch it in his mouth. He failed, and said piece of popcorn hit him square on the nose, bouncing off and getting lost somewhere in the bean bag where neither boy really cared to go digging for it.

“Shit, no, I swear I got this dude, I did it last time,” Larry declared and tried again, failing once more. Sal’s stomach knotted itself again and he had to squeeze his eyes shut in order to compose himself.

Sal watched his friend try and fail again and again, not even thinking about reaching for a handful himself-- he was mostly enthralled with what Larry was doing, but he also still had some reservations about eating in front of others-- until Larry finally caught a piece, making some kind of weird ass grunting noise in triumph. Sal watched Larry’s jawline move under his skin as he chewed, and his eyes followed his friend’s adam’s apple as he swallowed. His face under his prosthetic grew warm at that, for some reason.

Larry cocked his head and looked over at Sal with a lopsided grin. “Told you I could do it, man.”

Cute. Larry was cute. Oh God, Larry was cute. Sal had never used that word to describe anything other than small animals, but now it was bouncing around in his skull along with images of Larry’s face. Cute cute cute cute cute. Guys can’t be cute, everybody knows that, and yet…

There must be something wrong with him.

“Never said you couldn’t, dude.” Sal replied with a smile, even though Larry couldn’t see it, and clapped him on the shoulder.

Sal must be more fucked up in the head than he thought, and he had a feeling there was no medication for this kind of sickness. 

But then Larry passed the popcorn bowl over, and when Sal took it from him their hands touched and suddenly he didn’t want to be cured.


	2. First Time Without The Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal's prosthetic accidentally comes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like the only chapter with larry's pov. based on the conversation they have in chapter 4 of the game.  
> contains some angst if you squint.

Larry loved it when things were like this.

When the music and Sal’s laughter were so loud that his brain quieted down for a while.

They were in Larry’s bedroom, the stereo turned way up high because his mom wasn’t home and no one else was around in the basement to hear them, Sanity’s Fall blaring; a lot of people said it was all noise, but it was just the kind of noise Larry loved. And this was Sal’s favorite song, so that made all of it just that much better.

He had stopped his headbanging to watch the blur of Sal’s bright blue pigtails go absolutely wild. He must be in a good mood, Larry mused, if he was going at it this hard. He was full on thrashing, his head whipping back and forth, as opposed to his usual side-to-side bobbing. Larry vaguely thought of whiplash, but that thought was fleeting in favor of basking in the sight of Sal so happy; the music itself even drifted momentarily to the background as he watched his best friend. A happy Sal must be Larry’s favorite song. Wow, that was dumb and sappy as shit. Better move on from that thought right quick.

“Did you snatch some of your dad’s coffee or something?” Larry half-yelled over the music, Sal still headbanging like his life depended on it, “Like, wow dude, you’re really going at it more than-”

Larry was cut off as something came flying towards him, his eyes squeezing shut on instinct before he could really see what it was, followed by an extremely sharp pain right in the bridge of his nose. He stumbled back a couple steps, tripping over his own dumb big feet- thanks puberty- but thankfully hitting his bed before he could fall to the floor, bouncing slightly as he fell back onto it.

“Holy fucking shit, are you okay?” Sal’s voice sounded far away, drowned out by Larry’s heartbeat pounding in his skill as blood rushed to his face. He brought his hands up to cup his nose, and his fingers were soon wet. Yikes.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, just, fucking ow-” Larry mumbled into his hands. The music was turned down to a more socially acceptable volume, and Sal’s voice became more apparent.

“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry dude, I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry, is it broken? God I hope it’s not broken, shit, fuck, fuck fuck fuck…” his voice became more distant as he left the room, probably to get something to stop the bleeding. Larry took the opportunity to blink his watering eyes open, and the first thing he noticed was Sal’s mask, face-up and discarded on the floor. It didn’t take too long for Larry to connect the dots. So that meant Sal…

“Okay, uh, I got some toilet paper.”

Suddenly Sal was right in front of him, unrolling toilet paper into one of his hands, and Larry’s first thought was that he looked like art. Which was super fucking weird, but he did. He didn’t look mangled or broken or disfigured; a story was told on his face, a story of something probably traumatic and terrible, something that probably pained Sal to talk about out loud, but Larry wanted to know it all, because it was Sal.

Larry tried to memorize his features while Sal gently brought his hands away and tilted his head up. The scarring on his face was uneven, with the wounds concentrated mostly on Sal’s right side, criss crosses of his natural skin tone and scar tissue the color of marble, or porcelain. Larry traced the scars with his gaze down Sal’s face, each one like a different branching path along the planes of his skin, until he reached his nose and mouth. The end of his nose had been ripped away by something, leaving his nose looking more like that of a skull from one of Larry’s posters, and there was the remnants of a large gash going through Sal’s lower lip. Some of his teeth and gums were visible through the opening, glistening under the light of Larry’s room. Was it uncomfortable? Did it make it harder to speak? Did his mouth ever dry out? Did-

“Fucking ouch, dude,” Larry blurted as Sal shoved toilet paper up his throbbing nose. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to bleed out all over your shirt,” Sal apologized as he took another wad of toilet paper and wiped down Larry’s mouth and chin. He watched intently as his friend’s lips moved around the words, his voice clear and pure without the prosthetic muffling it. Oh, fuck, the prosthetic.

“Do you, um,” Larry started awkwardly, jerking his head in the direction of the discarded mask which his throbbing skull immediately made him regret, “want that back?”

“Want what back-” Sal at first spared only a glance at what Larry was referring to, but as the realization suddenly came to him he whipped around to look at the floor, then just as quickly back to look at Larry. His good eye moved rapidly, searching, desperately searching Larry’s face for something.

Alarms were blaring in Larry’s brain; Sal’s body was tensed up like an animal ready to bolt, so he did the one thing he thought was safe and just maintained eye contact. Larry knew Sal’s eyes. He had always known Sal’s eyes, the one part of his face his mask let shine through. He noticed immediately when those eyes started to water. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hey, wait, Sally Face, it’s okay,” Larry rambled on, trying to soothe his friend as tears began to spill down his face, their tracks uneven as they bobbed and weaved through his scar tissue, “It’s okay man, I won’t look you can just put it back on and I’ll…”

He trailed off when Sal put his head down, his shoulders shaking, one hand fisted in the collar of Larry’s shirt and the other still clutching the stupid fucking toilet paper. Larry was reeling. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t really good with any emotions, let alone crying, let alone his best friend crying. But he had never seen Sal so vulnerable, and Larry could almost physically feel his heart trying to turn itself inside out with how much that made him hurt.

Without saying anything else, Larry gently wrapped his arms around Sal’s shoulders, and it was like a switch was flipped. Sal almost seemed to collapse into him, leaning all his weight into Larry’s chest. His first sob sounded choked and labored, like he was trying to keep it in, and Larry clutched at Sal, bloody fingers be damned. He’d wash his sweater. He’d buy him a new one. Fuck, he would give Sal the world if he could.

Larry didn’t really know what was happening, why Sal was crying, or why he had essentially crawled into his lap, or why he had let him do it and was cradling him like he was something precious.

Because he is, his mind instantly answered.

That thought made Larry feel something weird, like he wanted to run away and hide and scream from the edge of a cliff and crawl under Sal’s skin all at the same time.

Larry tried to will his brain to be quiet with every fiber of his being. That didn’t matter. None of that mattered. He would figure it out later. All he needed to do now was hold Sal and never let go.


	3. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal and Larry's first kiss.  
> And second. And third...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to sal's pov, just some good ole kissing.  
> i based this heavily off my experiences as a baby gay.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Larry stopped mid-brush stroke to turn and look at Sal, surprised at the sudden question. Sal picked at the loose threads at the ripped knees of his jeans, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“I’ve never even dated anyone, man. You know that.” Larry replied, “So, no, in case that part wasn’t clear.”

This is what Sal loved about conversations with Larry- or, one of the many things Sal loved about conversations with Larry. He answered his questions and didn’t think any differently of him for asking them.

“Have you?”

If it came from anyone else, the question would be offensive. Of fucking course Sal hasn’t kissed anyone. The idea that anyone would be willing to kiss him was almost laughable. But Larry thought that highly of Sal; he genuinely thought that him having kissed someone before was a possibility. It made Sal blush horribly.

“...No, I haven’t.” Came Sal’s answer after a long pause. 

Larry didn’t say anything, just nodded a bit. As he started to turn back to his painting, Sal panicked. The conversation couldn’t be over already, they had barely gotten anywhere, fuck fuck fuck-

“Ha-have you ever thought about it?” Sal stammered, voice cracking. Fuck, fix it.

“I mean, have you ever, like… wanted to?” 

That made Larry stop again. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly as he thought about what to say. 

“I guess. I think it’d be nice. Mostly to just get it outta the way, though. So people would stop making such a big deal out of it.” Larry put his brush into the water cup next to the easel and turned around to fully face Sal. A good sign, this was good; he had his full attention now.  
He straightened up when he realized Larry was waiting for him to say something back. “Ye-yeah, I get that.” He said quickly. “I’m not super sure how it’d work for me, with the whole prosthetic and all. It’s not like I ever got a chance to experiment with anyone.”

Larry hummed affirmingly and looked away, biting his lip. Another lull in the conversation ensued, why wasn’t he talking, why wasn’t he talking-

“Dude, okay, just- I have an idea, but if you think it’s weird or shitty we never have to bring it up again.” Larry said, now looking at Sal once more.

“...Alright, shoot.”

Larry swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, obviously nervous about something. “What if I- I mean, what if you and me…” He trailed off while gesturing back and forth between them, looking at Sal with an almost pleading look in his eyes. 

Was he- no, he couldn’t be. But nothing else in the context of the conversation made sense. Sal could feel his palms sweating.

“...Kissed?” He finished Larry’s sentence for him, saying the word in such a soft voice you would think it was a swear word and there was an adult in the room. A forbidden word.

A silence that seemed to stretch on forever followed Sal’s voice. Although eventual Larry’s quiet response of “Yeah,” was barely louder than Sal had been, it might as well have been a car alarm with how it set his heart racing in his chest.

“...Okay.” Sal replied after another eternity of silence.

“Okay? Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s kiss.” Sal tried not to hesitate or stutter, but his voice still managed to crack embarrassingly. He still wasn’t used to the K word.

“Okay.”

As Larry got up from his stool and moved over to the bed where his friend was sitting, Sal could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, but his hands were trembling.

And then they just sat there, on the edge of Larry’s bed, just looking at each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

“Should I take off my face?”

“What? Oh, I don’t care. I mean, however you wanna do it.”

“Okay.”

Another stretch of silence ensued as Sal reached behind him to loosen the bottom strap of his prosthetic, and then slipped it up enough for his mouth to show, but then the eye holes were on his forehead instead of, well, over his eyes, and he couldn’t see Larry. Shit. 

He pulled it up the rest of the way to the top of his head, his pigtails keeping it from falling off. But then it stuck out in front of him like a fucking visor and would probably hit Larry in the forehead. Fuck. Why was he liked this.

Sal yanked the prosthetic off, and his careless movements pulled on his hair painfully, but he ignored the feeling. He’d made this weird enough already. Self consciously, Sal reached up to quickly wipe away the drool around the gash in his lip with the back of his sleeve. He really fucking hoped Larry hadn’t noticed.

Speaking of Larry, he looked like he was about to vomit.

“Larry, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.”

“Okay.”

More silence. The soft rumble of the basement’s shitty air conditioning felt like an earthquake.

Larry blinked a couple times before looking down at his hands.

“So, how should I…”

“Maybe you should, like, put your hands on my shoulders?”

“Okay.”

They resumed their quiet as Larry placed his hands on Sal’s shoulders. It didn’t feel natural, but Sal wasn’t sure how it was supposed to feel. He mimicked Larry’s movements, since he didn’t wanna just be sitting there with his hands limp at his sides.

Larry chewed on his lip as he looked somewhere past Sal’s head.

Sal was the one to break the silence this time, asking, “Do I just… lean in?” 

“I think we’re supposed to tilt our heads.”

“Okay, makes sense.”

“I go right and you go left.”

“We’ll both be going the same way, dude.”

“Oh. Then we both go left?”

On cue, they both tilted their heads to their left. Sal tilted his head way more than Larry did, and quickly eased the angle to match him.

They once again fell silent. Man, they had to stop doing this.

He looked down at Larry’s lips and swallowed thickly. This was actually happening. But was it though? Sal could bail. He could pull the ole “you’ve been punk’d” routine. He could pull away and laugh it off and he knew Larry would play along and then never bring it up again. But something about that scenario made Sal’s chest ache.

Yeah, this was fucking happening.

“C-Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

Larry did as he said, and wow Sal didn’t know guys could have such nice eyelashes.

Alright. He’s there. Waiting. It’s just a kiss, right? It’s not a big deal. It’s just so people will stop being obnoxious about it.

Fucking make a move, Fisher. 

Sal took a deep breath and just made himself lean into Larry, a little too fast but then suddenly their lips were touching and wow. It was weird and dry and Sal probably hadn’t puckered his lips enough but wow.

How long were they supposed to stay there? Was there a time limit or something? It had been like two seconds already, fuck, and what the fuck was going on in Sal’s brain?

At the first sign of movement on Larry’s part Sal pulled back, and they immediately let go of each other and turned to stare straight ahead. Sal brought a hand up to his lips and gently applied pressure with his fingers, trying to chase the weird tingling feeling he was left with. He didn’t look at Larry. He couldn’t. He felt like he was going to implode. 

“Did you feel anything?” Larry asked after a while, still not looking at Sal.

“Nope, nothing.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Back to silence.

“Maybe we didn’t do it right.”

“Probably.”

More silence. Sal saw Larry lick his lips out of the corner of his eye and he felt lightheaded.

“...Wanna try again?”

“Yes.”

The words were barely out of Sal’s mouth before he was moving again, like his body was on auto-pilot, and he puckered his damn lips this time.

He had thought the first one was good, but in comparison to this it was nothing. The stars were aligned. He could feel the rotation of the earth under his feet. His soul had skyrocketed up into the stratosphere and then floated gently down on a magic carpet made of clouds. Fuck.

Now that he was actually kissing Larry instead of just pressing their mouths together, Sal felt how soft his lips were, and it was almost uncomfortable to think about that because that’s so fucking weird but he couldn’t make himself stop. He couldn’t control his body anymore. His brain was in the back seat now, and every coherent or logical thought was being thrown out the window into the street.

Larry did something where he opened his mouth slightly against him and Sal fucking shivered; a that tremor went through his body from the ends of his pigtails down to his toes and back up again.

Not even thinking- Sal hadn’t been thinking for a good minute now- he brought his hands up to where Larry’s jaw connected to his neck, and he marveled at how soft the skin was there. He didn’t know guys could be soft. He was learning a lot about guys today that he hadn’t known. Surprising, considering he was one.

“Can I- mmm-” Why was Larry talking? No more talking. Just kissing. Talking meant Sal had to think, and this was strictly a no thinking zone.

Larry pushed Sal back slightly, and he opened his eyes, suddenly very afraid he was doing something wrong, that he was about to get the inevitable ugly wake up call.

“Can I touch your face?” Oh.

“Yeah, just be careful around my bad eye. S’tender.” 

“Got it.”

And with that, Larry gently- impossibly gently- slid his hands up from Sal’s shoulders to his face, cupping the sides of his jaw, and the distant thought that they fit like they belong there made Sal curl a hand around the back of Larry’s neck and yank him in for another kiss, which really did not work as planned as all of Larry’s weight came forward onto him.

They both grunted in surprise as Larry fell forward, his face squished against Sal’s, forcing him onto his back with his legs still over the side of the bed at a weird angle.

Larry pulled back so their noses were no longer crushed together, hovering a couple inches above, his long hair creating a curtain around them. His brown eyes were round as they gazed at Sal, his breath quicker than it had been ten minutes ago, and even though that stunt they had just pulled had been a fumble of epic proportions on Sal’s part he couldn’t help but grin slightly.

“Sorry,” he whispered, like it was a secret.

“It’s okay,” Larry whispered back, “Do you wanna talk about… this?”

No. “No. Maybe. I dunno. Move your ass.” Sal pawed at Larry’s shoulders until he sat up, and the moment was over as quick as it had began. As much as he hated the absence of his hands on his face his legs were falling asleep and if they were going to Talk About This he needed to move. 

They shuffled around until they were sitting next to each other, backs against the wall.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, until Larry cleared his throat and oh fuck it.

“I don’t know what… this is,” Sal admitted. Had he not just been on cloud fucking nine he probably wouldn’t be as open as he was being.

Larry sighed, “Me neither.”

“...But I like it. I really like it. I don’t really know what’s… going on. With me. I’m not gay. Or at least, I don’t think so? I don’t know. Fuck.” Sal reached over for his prosthetic and secured it back in place, suddenly feeling very naked without it. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Larry was quiet, seemingly thinking about something, before he chuckled.

“Well, whatever’s wrong with you, I got it too, dude,” Larry huffed, running a hand through his hair. Sal watched him do it, but this time he didn’t feel as guilty for staring as he would have a couple weeks ago.

“I don’t know if I like dudes,” he continued, “but… But I like you. And I kinda just… wanna be yours.”

Oh my god. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

Everything. “Nothing. What you said just now was just really… nice? I don’t know. I don’t know a lot, actually.” Sal was glad he had put his prosthetic back on because it seemed like all of the blood in his body had decided to congregate in his fucking face.

“I think I’m in the same boat. But I’m just trying to, like, say what’s on my mind, y’know? It doesn’t have to make sense.”

Oh. Why hadn’t Sal thought of that?

He took a deep breath. “Okay,” Sal paused, trying to figure out what the fuck was actually on his mind, “I really like the sound of… that. The being yours thing.” Barely ten words and Sal already felt like he was about to fucking explode. “Bu-but we’re still best friends, right? Y’know. Bros. That doesn’t have to… change?”

Larry frowned slightly. “I don’t see why not.”

Sal exhaled a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. I don’t want it to be a weird thing where, like, y’know it’s your girlfriend and she drags you away from your friends to go to the movies or whatever and it sucks.”

“Oh yeah, course not. Gross.”

“Yeah.”

They fell silent again. Sal wasn’t sure what else there was to say. It felt like there should be something, but he couldn’t think of anything. 

Sal leaned his head on Larry’s shoulder, something he had done hundreds of times before, but this time it felt… different, somehow. Purposeful. Nerve-wracking. Intimate. That was a loaded word.

Larry leaned his head against the top of Sal’s.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sal said. He felt it when Larry smiled.

“Yeah.”


	4. First A Few Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was meant to be just spooning but then some other things happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas :3c  
> i shouldve specified already but theres some time in between each chapter, like the first one is when theyre like 15 and this one theyre like 17 and theyve been together for almost a year  
> i dont rly like this one all that much but the show must go on so here you go  
> featuring a repurposed quote from chapter 4 because steve cant stop me

_ I’m so sorry please don’t go please please I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please don’t leave me here to rot I’m sorry don’t take him away I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m- _

 

Sal jolted awake, his vision blurry and swimming as he struggled to remember where he was. It took a few seconds of him frantically fanning his hands out and feeling around for him to realize he was in his bed. He was safe.

 

Breathe in, count to ten, breathe out. He was safe.

 

“Sally Face?” The slightly hoarse half-whisper (the kind of whisper where you’re mostly just whispering for show, not to actually be quiet) made him jump, but as he looked over he was immediately red with shame. Larry was sleeping over that night, on an air mattress on the floor, and Sal had woken him up with his stupid nightmare.

 

“Sorry,” Sal half-whispered back, still counting his breaths and struggling to lower his heart rate.

 

“You have a nightmare?”

 

“Yeah. Sorry.” Sal apologized again and exhaled deeply, his breath audibly shaky and uneven.

 

“Y’wanna talk about it?” 

 

Before Sal could even answer, Larry was already sitting up, rubbing one of his eyes with the heel of his palm. A fresh wave of shame washed over Sal. His friend shouldn’t have to put up with this. With him. 

 

“Don’t remember it.” He lied, looking at the wall so he wouldn’t have to face Larry.

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Sal almost wanted to laugh. Larry read him so well to the point of inconvenience. He took another shaky breath, tracing patterns on his bedspread with a trembling finger.

 

“It was about you.”

 

That seemed to stun Larry momentarily.

 

“Oh.”

 

Both of them seemed to be at a loss for words, and Sal wished he had his hair up so he could hold onto his pigtails, his go-to fear reaction.

 

Larry shook his head slightly, as if to shake the sleep out of his brain, and started pulling back his blankets.

 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Sal stammered.

 

“Coming up there.”

 

“Lar you don’t have to-”

 

“Here I come. Make room.”

 

Larry was pulling himself up off the floor onto the bed, and Sal could do nothing but pull his knees up to his chest to give him some space.

 

Soon they were face to face, Larry sitting cross-legged in front of him. He put his hands on Sal’s knees, but did nothing else, waiting patiently. God, Sal didn’t deserve this.

 

It was three more ten-counts of breath before he was ready to talk, but Larry didn’t move the entire time, just let the warmth of his hands seep through Sal’s pajama pants.

 

“There was- a pit,” Sal started, his heartbeat already quickening as he recalled it, “a big pit full of black- stuff. It was smoke or tar or something I don’t know.”

 

Larry “mhm”ed and nodded, looking like there was nothing he’d rather be doing at buttfuck o’ clock than listen to Sal’s crazy ass.

 

“And it was full of red eyes, all- all looking at me. And you were there, and you were getting pulled in,” Sal squeezed his eyes shut, but continued, “And I ran and ran but the pit was still a few feet away from me, no matter how much I fucking tried to get there, and I kept yelling for you to stay, but I just had to- to watch you sink. I couldn’t do anything!” He suddenly shoved Larry’s hands off of him and hunched into himself, forehead pressed against his knees, wishing he were an armadillo or some shit so he could just curl up into a little ball and roll away. Preferably off a cliff. 

 

He didn’t mean to be snippy at Larry. He really didn’t. But he had never been in one of Sal’s night terrors before, and all of a sudden he showed up, front and center. And Sal wouldn’t let himself even begin to think about what kind of connotations came with that fact.

 

To Sal’s surprise, Larry didn’t try and take apart his little ball he had made of himself. Instead, he wrapped himself around it, encircling Sal in his arms and resting his chin on his head, which made Sal even more upset because  _ why the fuck was Larry doing this, he didn’t deserve it, he was a bother, he had woken Larry up _ .

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Sal.” Larry murmured into his hair, and Sal wanted to fucking  _ scream _ .

 

“I dunno what’s going on in your head, but whatever demons have got you wound up so tight better fuck the fuck off before I fight them.” Larry continued, and Sal couldn’t help but laugh quietly despite himself. 

 

“I’m here, whatever you need, I’ll do it. I don’t want you to worry that you’re gonna scare me off or be too much for me. You probably don’t believe me, but you’re worth it. I think I’d do pretty much anything for you. I promise.”

 

Sal’s heart hurt. Larry made talking seem so easy. It was always a struggle for Sal to get his thoughts out in a way that made sense, let alone sounded poetic, and it fucking sucked. What could he possibly say back?

 

“I love you.” Sal blurted out. 

 

Well, he could say  _ that _ . 

 

Larry froze, and Sal immediately regretted ever opening his stupid mouth.

 

Larry pulled back and willed Sal to tilt his head up with a hand cupping his cheek. He was putty in Larry’s hands and looked up at him with a glassy (but not glass) eye, hoping to whatever deities that were out there he hadn’t fucked this up.

 

But instead of doing any of the million things Sal’s brain was afraid he’d do, Larry just pressed their foreheads together and grinned.

 

“I love you, Sally Face,” Larry whispered, barely audible, his voice only just drifting out with his breath. “Always.”

 

Sal wanted to say something back, but there was nothing to say. He just kissed Larry hard enough that he hoped he’d get the message.

 

When they parted again, Larry let go of Sal in favor of moving around to settle in next to him.

 

“What are you doing?” Sal asked for the second time that night.

 

And, appropriately, Larry also repeated himself; “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Sal could only blink and watch dumbly as Larry laid down and pulled the covers up to his waist. This was on a whole different level of intimate and something in Sal’s brain was short-circuiting. 

 

Larry looked up at Sal, opened his arms, and asked “you coming?” with a big dumb grin on his face and Sal decided he didn’t need his brain; his body would do.

 

He slid under the covers and settled himself against Larry. It took a bit of trial and error before Sal figured out they fit together better if his back was against Larry’s front- he’d never spooned anyone before, sue him- but once they got to a comfortable position it was perfect; they were neatly aligned, from collar to hips, their legs tangled together, and to top it all off Larry spread one of his hands across Sal’s stomach and he just about melted under the touch. 

 

Sal drifted off to the sounds of Larry breathing, and for the first time in who fucking knows how long, he fell asleep unafraid.

 

~~ A/N: Bonus bc im a fucking sap: ~~

They slept in, having lost sleep to their impromptu feelings session, and unbeknownst to both of them Sal’s dad came in in the morning to remind him to take his meds. Henry stopped mid-sentence, caught off-guard by what he had just walked in on, but, as he soon came to realize, not at all surprised. He leaned against Sal’s door frame and smiled warmly as the sight of his son and his best friend cuddling, Larry’s arms wrapped protectively around Sal. Henry debated taking a picture, but decided against it, and instead shut the door quietly and left. They would tell him when they were ready.


	5. First Makeouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal wants to make out with Larry, but things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay imo this is like a million times better than the previous chapters, and its also like almost twice as long, idk why that is but enjoy (to compensate this hasnt been beta read im posting it immediately after finishing it bc im excited !!!!)
> 
> this is another chapter based on personal experiences so now yall will know how much i sucked at making out the first time i did it OTL i was a baby gay
> 
> rating has been bumped from teen to mature, but theres no actual sex yet, just a little horniness. but Soon (TM)
> 
> EDIT: THIS FIC NOW HAS FANART !!!!!!!!!! and a COMIC no less !!!
> 
> nicolikesnarwhals over on instagram illustrated a BEAUTIFUL comic of the beginning of this chapter and i am absolutely enamored. check it out here and please be sure to give them some love !!

It was a little past three in the morning; witching hour. And Sal was feeling frisky.

 

He wasn’t sure why, or why now specifically, but he was staying over at Larry’s again and for once he didn’t just want to sit down and talk or listen to music or watch his boyfriend--  _ his boyfriend _ , ha ha nice-- paint. Maybe Sal was just sleep deprived. He might look back the next day and be embarrassed. But it wasn’t the next day yet, so he was gonna just go ahead and let Future Sal deal with that.

 

They’d been together one year and a month, and compared to some of the other people (read: straight people) Sal knew they were moving at a snail’s pace. They kissed, they held hands, hell they even slept together, but they never…  _ slept together _ . Or even made out. And Sal was fine with it, he really was, he’d be fine with just about anything as long as it was with Lar, but he really felt like they should be doing… something, at this point. Sal wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted, just that he sure as shit  _ wanted _ . And it had only recently gotten worse, maybe because it was summer and Larry had a habit of wearing muscle tanks and putting his hair up in a high ponytail except for those two strands at his temples that he let hang free and frame his face so well and Sal just wanted to grab them and  _ pull _ and--

 

Yeah. Sal had a problem, and he knew he needed to get this show on the road.

 

As much as Sal liked to envision himself as some kind of casanova, he knew he was bullshitting. Larry had always been a better talker than he was, and Sal had a frequent habit of biting off more than he could chew, coming up with something to say that would get a reaction out of Larry only for him to shoot back an immediate response that made Sal promptly shut up, his face burning under his prosthetic. 

 

Not tonight, though. Sal was a man on a mission. Throw something against a wall enough times it’ll eventually stick, right? Right.

 

Everything was in place. Sal had been flirting subtly (he hoped) all night, being a little more touchy than usual, but not outright, just teasing brushes of his hands or shoulder when they sat next to each other. For good measure, he had decided to wear one of Larry’s shirts that day, and it was big enough that the collar slipped off one of his shoulders, because of course it did. They were about to watch a movie on the little TV in Larry’s room, and Sal had oh so graciously offered to get up and get them snacks, choosing to ignore the mostly untouched bag of chips that sat on the bed from earlier in the night and praying that Larry did too. Sal had prepared a lot of things to say, but a response to  _ ‘we already have food’ _ was not one of them. But either the universe really is a kind place or Larry is just a good guy because he only nodded and let Sal leave.

 

Plan A: Sal dawdles in the kitchen, Larry wonders what’s taking so long, comes up behind him and says something sexy and then, like, makes out with him against the counter or something? That’s something couples do, right? Sal knew it was a longshot, but a man can dream.

 

Sal stared into the very depths of Larry and Lisa’s fridge for what felt like sixteen hours and didn’t so much as hear a peep from the basement. He sighs. So long, Plan A, you were a pipe dream, but a good one.

 

Plan B: Sal brings back the snacks, bends over in front of Larry to put them down, and then Larry says something sexy and… does something. Sal hadn’t gotten that far. He’d really really been hoping Plan A would magically work out.

 

Sal pads back down the stairs, bowl of pretzels in hand, and Larry tosses a “you okay?” over his shoulder but otherwise didn’t comment on his long absence. At least he noticed.

 

“Yeah, I’m good, I just had to use the bathroom.” The excuse came out seamlessly, but it was about as much as Sal could come up with on the spot. Larry hummed in response, and it was then that Sal realized Larry was crouched in front of the TV, rewinding the VHS. He wasn’t sitting in one of the beanbag chairs like Sal had been banking on. He couldn’t bend over in front of him if he was crouched in front of the TV. Shit.  _ Shit _ . He could wait until Larry sat down again--

 

“Could you pass the bowl? I got kinda hungry while you were gone.”

 

Sal just dumbly handed over the pretzels as he saw Plan B crumbling to ash right before his eyes.

 

“Thanks.” 

 

“Sure thing, dude.”

 

There was no Plan C. Sal really didn’t think this through. He’d just assumed things would work out. God, fuck his whole ass entire life.

 

Larry had finished rewinding and sat down in one of the bean bags.  _ Fix it, Sal, fix it _ .

 

“I- I wanted to sit there.” Sal’s voice cracked as he said it, and he wasn’t sure what the fuck ‘it’ even was supposed to be, but he soldiered on. He had to work with it.

 

Larry blinked up at him.

 

“Here?” He gestured to the bean bag he was sitting in.

 

Sal straightened his posture a little. “Yeah.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I just. Wanted to.” Smooth.

 

Larry furrowed his brows, silent for a moment, then spoke again, “Well I guess if you really want--”

 

“If you don’t move I’m gonna sit in your lap.” The words were out of Sal’s mouth before he could even process them.

 

Larry just blinked at him again, his hands still in the pushing-up-out-of-a-bean-bag position.  _ Please, please, please please please. _

 

And for a moment Sal was sure there was a god, because like the beautiful fucking boy he is Larry relaxed back into the bean bag and said, “Okay.”

 

Sal didn’t even pause, ignoring his pounding heart as he stepped over the bowl and pretzels and plonked himself down sideways in Larry’s lap, fitting with him on the bean bag chair with ease, by nature of it being a bean bag chair, and then they just looked at each other, saying nothing.

 

It had been a bitch and a half getting there, but now that Sal was here he didn’t really know what to do, or what to say, if anything. It almost felt like the first time they had kissed, which was stupid, because they’d been together for a year and one month, and Sal shouldn’t be feeling nervous like that anymore. So he promptly locked those feelings in a little box in the back of his mind, along with everything else he didn’t know how to deal with.

 

...Kissing! Kissing was great. Kissing was safe. He should do that.

 

Sal licked his lips and went in for it, and thankfully Larry seemed to have been expecting it because he reciprocated easily, closing his eyes and puckering his lips slightly.

 

And this is what they usually did, just little mouth presses with minimal movements. It was nice, it was great, peachy, even, but Sal knew there was a metaphorical bridge he had to cross.

 

The next time they minutely broke apart, Sal parted his lips slightly, just kind of poking Larry’s bottom lip with his tongue. Sal felt Larry tense up, but not enough to indicate discomfort or-- worse-- disgust, and he quickly relaxed again. 

 

And with that stupid little tongue poke not only had the bridge been crossed but the dam had been fucking broken, fittingly both river-related metaphors, because Larry opened his mouth and when Sal swiped his tongue again made a breathy little noise that Sal wouldn’t have heard had he not been sitting in his lap.

 

Sal ignored the way his heart fluttered in favor of continuing to kiss Larry, but it suddenly dawned on him that what they were now doing had gone beyond the threshold of kissing and could now be considering making out, a realization that made Sal feel kind of giddy but also kind of alarmed, but he pressed on. Maybe the more he did it the good would start to outweigh the bad.

 

He operated based on that alone, just trying to find out what made him feel the best and made him want to run and hide the least, because he really and truly had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

 

It took them a little while to find a rhythm, because Larry was slow and gentle, methodical even, like how he was with everything, and Sal just wanted to  _ go _ , his fingers twitching where they gripped Larry’s shoulders, an unshakable jitteriness to his movements. But they worked off each other, Sal slowing down slightly and Larry heating up, and then they were  _ making out _ , like, for real, breathing each other’s air.

 

Sal pulled away to shift from the awkward half-turned position he had been in, swinging one leg over Larry and then sitting down on his thighs, facing him, his knees sinking into the material of the chair. He still had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but he must be doing something right, because Larry’s face was flushed, the beautiful color extending down his neck to his collarbones peeking out under his collar, and his eyes were half-lidded and glassy. The sight pleased Sal immensely, enough to distract him from his worried overthinking, and he dove back in, one hand on Larry’s shoulder and the other twirling one of those twin loose locks of hair he left out of his ponytail.

 

Larry reacted with just as much enthusiasm, his hands grabbing at Sal’s shoulder and his waist as he opened his mouth to him, and when Sal tugged lightly on his hair he honest to god  _ moaned _ . Just like that Sal was immediately thrust back into the confusing flip flop of being at once incredibly excited and incredibly uncomfortable, because moaning meant… good things. They should be good things. They  _ were _ good things. He was just overthinking it. 

 

Sal could physically feel the heat radiating from Larry’s face, he was blushing so hard, further adding to Sal’s suspicion that he was getting horny. He decided right then and there that he would just ignore any discomfort he felt, because it was too late to get cold feet. He’d been the one to get him like this, he’d flirted with him, he’d sat in his goddamn lap, and Larry shouldn’t have to stop on account of Sal being a stupid blushing virgin about it. He was just overthinking it. Anything Larry did would feel good.  _ He was just overthinking it _ .

 

Larry pushed Sal away and up, putting a little bit of distance between them, and looked at him, seemingly scrutinizing his face and searching for… something. He seemed uncertain, and Sal realized he must have fucked up somehow, tensed up or given him the impression that he was uncomfortable, so he kept himself as relaxed as possible and gave Larry what he hoped approximated bedroom eyes.

 

That seemed to be enough for Larry, because he looked away and removed his hands from Sal’s body, bringing them down to his own waist, and oh my god he was taking off his shirt he was taking off his shirt--

 

“S-stop,” Sal blurted out, his eyes squeezed shut, and immediately regretted it, hot shame prickling under his skin as Larry immediately froze because he was a great guy and Sal fucking ruined it.

 

“Stop?” Larry parroted, sounding borderline mortified. Sal was a horrible boyfriend.

 

“I… I can’t do this.” Sal slid off of Larry’s lap onto the floor, his eyes open but staring at the bowl of pretzels he regretted ever getting instead of Larry’s face. He wiped the drool from his chin. He always drooled when they kissed because of the dumb fucking gash in his lip. “This is so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, Lar.”

 

“No, hey, it’s okay,” Larry was immediately reassuring him, just like he always did, and the guilt increased tenfold.

 

But Sal knew better than to voice his guilt, him feeling undeserving of Larry’s kindness something they had talked over and worked on a lot, so he just muttered another apology and left it at that, sitting there on the floor with his hands awkwardly limp in his lap.

 

The silence was thick and Sal could’ve reached out and grabbed a hold of the tension in the air with how palpable it was.

 

“...Can I be honest?” Larry asked after exactly sixty three seconds of silence.

 

_ Please don’t.  _ “Please do.”

 

Larry was laughing, the breathy half-laugh he did when he was trying to lighten the mood.

 

“I’m kinda glad you said stop.”

 

Sal’s head shot up to look at him, but apparently it was Larry’s turn to avoid eye contact.

 

“Dude, what?”

 

“Yeah. I was sorta freaking out inside, y’know,” Larry rubbed the back of his neck as he talked, “and I thought you wanted to, y’know, do more, so I was just going along with it.”

 

If Sal hadn’t been fucking reeling he would’ve spared more brainspace for how adorable it was, the way Larry forced “y’know” into every sentence when he was nervous.

 

“That’s exactly what I was doing.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Word for fucking word, Larry.”

 

They spent some time just looking at each other until Larry hunched forward with his face in his hands.

 

“God, we’re a fucking mess.”

 

Sal grinned despite himself, all of the tension immediately draining from the atmosphere. He’d worried for nothing, but he couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it, only wonder how he had ever managed to get caught up in what they  _ should _ do and what their relationship  _ should _ be, because this was fucking Larry. He didn’t need to do any of that. Sal’s shoulders untensed from the sheer relief.

 

Larry sat back up and inhaled deeply.

 

“Okay, new rule. None of… whatever the fuck that was,” Larry declared with a sigh, “so, where exactly are you? In regards to… sex stuff.”

 

Oh right. Sex stuff. That’s what this had been about.

 

“I don’t really know?” Sal admitted. It sounded more like another question than an answer to one. “Making out was good, but I don’t think I’m ready. F-for sex stuff, I mean.”

 

Larry hummed and nodded. “Me neither.”

 

So… that was that. Boundary established, and all it took was them actually talking. Who knew.

 

Larry cleared his throat.

 

“Could you still sit in my lap, though?”

 

Sal blushed, but this time it was the good kind of blushing.

 

“Gladly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fics need more boundary establishment and getting in over your head and im here to supply


	6. First dick stuff (im bad at titles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal and Larry are ready to take their relationship a step further.
> 
> They agree on no touching, just watching, but Sal gets a little needy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am................. so sorry this took so long OTL OTL OTL please forgive me
> 
> i meant to finish this like two weeks ago but then i suddenly got sick and when i got better two less than favorable situations came up irl and i had to deal with them 
> 
> but this chapter is a fucking MONSTER and i hope that makes up for it.
> 
> its 8.3k words.
> 
> for comparison, the last chapter was about 2.5k words.
> 
> rating and tags have been updated. have fun. (this hasnt been beta read) (EDIT: fixed a typo)
> 
> (p.s. im addressing this since things are actually getting spicy: this fic was started before chapter 4 was released but im not setting it in an au (aside from the 'nobody dies' thing) or anything because i dont feel i need to.  
> henry and lisa still got married, sal and larry are still legally step-brothers, and if that makes you uncomfortable you probably wouldnt be reading this in the first place.  
> henry and lisa got married when sal and larry were already adults, and based on canon evidence the four of them never even lived together. had they gotten married when sal and larry were kids or if sal and larry had had a brother dynamic pre-marriage i would not like the ship. in my gay opinion they always had romantic tension and what their parents do with their lives has no bearing with their relationship with each other. that is all.)

Something in the atmosphere had changed.

 

Maybe it was something in the air, or the change of the seasons, or his astrological moon was aligned with the stars or some bullshit, Sal wasn’t sure. But something had changed.

 

It had been a little while since Sal and Larry’s first almost-boning, and really, the state of things hadn’t been altered very much. Sometimes their kisses would get heated, tongues would come into play, and they’d make out until they got tired of it or someone got an erection, whichever came first. Lately, it had usually been the latter. But they still stopped, every time, because Sal never felt ready. He wasn’t sure how Larry felt about it, and tried to push down the little voice telling him he was being a prude and should be putting out by now. But, eventually, that little voice was replaced with something less nagging and more… encouraging. Wanting. Needing.

 

And one morning, when Sal woke up, the apprehension and nervousness he felt was greatly outweighed by a hunger that was foreign to him in how it threatened to swallow him whole whenever he thought too hard about it.

 

Sal rolled over onto his stomach in bed and stared at the wall for a few minutes, trying to piece together how he felt, a process he was mediocre at-- and that’s being generous. He didn’t really get anywhere, but as he thought his gaze drifted over to a bright yellow sticky note taped to his wall: “talk to larry you fucking wet egg” written in red ink and underlined three times. Oh yeah.

 

He’d put that up specifically for times like this, when he was about to think himself to death, to remind him of the conversation he and Larry had had multiple times; that it was good to talk about how he felt, even if all he could say is that he didn’t know how he felt at all. 

 

If Sal and Larry were going to do this, although he wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was yet, he needed to be an open fucking book. None of that silent worrying bullshit he was so good at. Not today.

 

Feeling a bit more confident in himself, Sal reached over and plucked his phone off of his nightstand, but not before glancing at the clock to make sure it wasn’t too early. He wasn’t a monster. But his confidence immediately drained when he opened Larry’s contact and his thumb hovered over the buttons, realizing he had to actually say something. Well. Baby steps.

 

Sal typed and erased several times, which was kind of difficult given the limitations of the number pad, but eventually settled on a brief but concise _can i come over tonight? i need 2 talk abt smthn_.

 

Larry would know something was up, given that Sal had a key to the Johnson apartment and hadn’t asked to come over since he was fourteen, but maybe that was good. He could prepare himself mentally, or whatever the fuck it was that he did whenever Sal decided to spring something on him like this.

 

Sal’s phone buzzed after less than a minute.

 

_ sure. anything wrong? _

 

Ugh, he should’ve specified that it wasn’t something bad. Sal’s face flushed with guilt.

 

_ no _

_ dont worry abt it _

 

Shit, should he have said that? Maybe he was making it seem too light now? This was kind of serious, wasn’t it?

 

His phone buzzed again before he could think himself into another mental ditch.

 

_ ok :) _

 

Sal thought that that smiley face had a kind of finality about it, cementing their plans for tonight. It stared into his soul. Taunting him, almost. Goading him into backing out. 

 

...Okay, that’s really fucking dumb. He needed to stop thinking so much.

 

Sal flipped his phone closed and put it back in its spot on his nightstand, next to his case of eyes. He should go take a shower. Yeah, that was a good idea. Good thinking, Fisher. Whatever they decided to do tonight, Sal wanted to be clean for it.

 

He showered like he normally did, until he was about to lather himself with shower gel, which is when he stopped and had an idea. Sal had some kind of body wash that he knew Ash used. She always smelled really good, so he had asked her what shit she used. He hadn’t realized it was an incredibly flowery and girly product until he had went out and gotten some himself. Sal still bought it, but hid it under his sweater when he came home in case his dad was around and stashed it behind all the other products on the shelf on the tile wall. He was still a little embarrassed about it, but if there was ever a time to use it, it was now. Plus, when had Sal ever given a fuck about doing something supposedly reserved for girls? Never, that’s when.

 

Sal grabbed the body wash and bathed himself with a new vigor. Not only would he be clean, he’d smell like-- Sal looked at the label-- Japanese cherry blossom. Fuck yes.

 

As Sal’s hands wandered, lathering the gel and rubbing it into his skin, it was only natural that his mind wandered, too. He thought about what he and Larry might do once the sun went down. When he imagined touching Larry, Sal still felt a twinge of anxiety, but it was more anticipatory than anything, and was majorly overshadowed by something that approximated… horny affection? Larry was gorgeous; everything about him was stunning and unique and amazing and Sal really just… wanted to appreciate all of it. He wanted to satisfy him, make him feel good. 

 

Sal inhaled sharply as his dick visibly twitched at that particular train of thought, and he reached a soapy hand down to palm at it. He stepped more directly into the spray, letting the suds wash away and drip down his body, and took a few deep breaths. He was only half hard, but he had a feeling if he continued with that mental image of… tending to Larry’s needs he’d be at full mast in no time. Sal really didn’t want to think about the possible connotations of the fact that he was getting off on the thought of pleasing Larry, so he didn’t, removing his hand from his junk to turn off the water and wring his hair out.

 

Anticipation was thrumming under his skin. Sal was doing all of this imagining and wondering, and yet he didn’t know if Larry would even want to do this with him. He hoped he would; god, how he hoped he would. Sal was still kind of nervous, but he was almost physically aching with need and he hadn’t even really touched himself. If imaginary Larry could do that to him, Sal really fucking wanted to know what real Larry would do.

 

\--

 

Sal let himself into Larry and Lisa’s apartment at approximately nine-thirty that night. He’d already been weird about things by asking for permission to come over, so he hoped to compensate by acting like it was business as usual. Which, to be fair, it was. For now.

 

He called out a hello to announce his presence, not wanting to sneak up on anyone. He didn’t hear anything back; Lisa must already be asleep, or in bed reading. Larry had once told Sal she likes to do that.

 

Larry usually couldn’t hear him from the basement, so Sal went ahead and went down the stairs, shutting the door at the top behind him. Nervous excitement made his steps quick and twitchy, and Sal was glad he had bothered to tie his shoes before heading down.

 

Larry must have been expecting it to be Sal, because he was up on his feet when Sal appeared. He’d probably been watching the television or something.

 

At the sight of him, Sal’s heartbeat sped up, feeling like it was fluttering in his chest. He exhaled with a slight shudder and hoped Larry didn’t notice.

 

“Hey, Sally Face,” Larry greeted and opened his arms to embrace Sal, who immediately returned the hug.

 

“Hey, Larry Face,” Sal said before burying his face into Larry’s chest. Larry was tall and broad and warm and everything wonderful and Sal almost felt bad for wanting to do obscene things with him. To him. Fuck.

 

Larry pressed a kiss to the top of Sal’s head and breathed deeply. “Mm. You smell good.”

 

Sal knew he did-- that was the fucking point-- but the comment still made his face heat up under his prosthetic. “Thanks.”

 

They pulled away at the same time, but Larry kept his hands on Sal’s waist, which was just dandy because Sal kept his on Larry’s chest, effectively still caging each other in. All Sal could think about is the number of layers of clothes between them and wow, that wasn’t a lot, huh? And how he was always within close proximity of Larry’s body, all he had to do was work up the courage, reach out, and touch…

 

“S-sit on the bed with me.” It came out more of a demand than a question, but Larry didn’t complain, allowing himself to be led to his bed. He sat on the edge, feet flat on the floor, and faced Sal; the position was reminiscent of their first kiss. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

 

“You wanted to talk about something?” Larry prompted, practically exuding an aura of gentle patience and  _ ugh _ Sal loved him.

 

He nodded and lightly chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking down at where Larry’s hand rested over his own, and a problem quickly arose. Sal hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to say.

 

What should he ask for? What should he call it? Sex? Did he want sex? Maybe not full on sex, that seemed like a bit much. Blowjobs? Handjobs? There suddenly seemed to be ten thousand ways to get down and dirty with someone and Sal was incredibly overwhelmed. Larry was waiting, still waiting for him to say something, say something Fisher, say something--

 

“I-I want to see you naked!” Sal blurted and immediately wanted to melt into the floor. He had been standing at the top of some metaphorical stairs, and he had been sent tumbling painfully down with a swift kick to the ass. From himself.

 

“With me, also naked. To-together. Preferably.”  _ Shut up shut up shut up shut up you’re making it so much worse oh my god just stop talking-- _

 

Larry’s bushy eyebrows were arched high on his face as he blinked at Sal a few times.

 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Larry asked after an age. “I mean… are you sure?”

 

He seemed to be (thankfully) overlooking Sal’s incredibly awkward wording, so Sal soldiered on, even though it felt like all of his blood was burning in his face and ears. “Yeah… yeah, I am.”

 

Larry made a small thoughtful sound, sort of a hum, and Sal looked up at him through his bangs. 

 

“Like… now?”

 

“I mean, yeah… I-If that’s cool with you, if now’s a bad time then I can just come back later-- oh.” 

 

Sal interrupted himself as Larry cupped his face, tilting his head up to make eye contact as his fingers toyed with the straps of his prosthetic.

 

“Can I take this off?” Larry’s voice had seemingly dropped a full octave in the span of six seconds and Sal had to stop himself from shivering.

 

“Yeah, here, lemme--” Sal reached back and unfastened the mask then pulled it off, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor, because he really didn’t give a shit at present.

 

Larry replaced his hands on Sal’s face, gently running a thumb over the bumpy scars, and Sal leaned into it, still not breaking eye contact with Larry.

 

“How do you want to do this? Like, how far do you want to… go.” 

 

Sal’s nervousness flared up again, but he cleared his throat quietly and spoke anyway, willing himself to stop blushing so hard since the skin of his face was now exposed and Larry could surely feel it radiating heat. 

 

“I know I don’t want to do the-- the full thing.” It was becoming increasingly clear that it was hard to talk about sex without actually saying the word sex, but whenever Sal thought about saying that word his throat seemed to stop working.

 

Penetration-- that was kind of a dumb word-- was out, but that still left a lot of things on the table, as Sal had come to realize. A lot of things could be done with two naked, or at least partially naked bodies.

 

“Maybe just-- could we just watch each other to start? Is that weird?” It seemed pretty weird to Sal, but the prospect of watching Larry masturbate seemed really really appealing. Also, Sal had only ever handled his own junk before. It couldn’t be that different, but he’d still like a little demonstration first. It seemed like a good place to start. 

 

Larry’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke again, but then he suddenly grinned.

 

“...you wanna watch me jack off?”

 

Sal’s hands flew up to cover his face and he curled in on himself, embarrassed blush returning with a fucking vengeance.

 

“Well not when you put it like that!” He groaned into his hands, but Larry was laughing and gently prying his hands away by his wrists.

 

“It’s okay, Sal, I’m just fucking with you. Really.”

 

Despite Larry’s reassuring words, Sal still wouldn’t look up from his lap, so he leaned in until Sal felt his warm breath puffing against his ear.

 

“I want you to watch me…” Larry whispered in a sultry voice, and oh that just wasn’t fair.

 

Sal playfully shoved him away and crossed his arms with a huff. “Fuck you and your deep voice.”

 

“I thought you didn’t wanna do the full thing?”

 

Sal opened his mouth to respond, but knew Larry would immediately fire back with something to make him blush, like he always did, damn him. He shut his mouth and frowned, puffing out his cheeks like a child and doing his best to glare at Larry to get the message across.

 

It seemed to work, and Larry’s teasing demeanor was immediately broken by a soft smile. “You’re cute.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You’d be cuter naked.”

 

“God fucking damn it, Lar.”

 

Larry chuckled that low, throaty laugh of his before shaking his head a little. Any sexy atmosphere that had built up (which wasn’t a lot to begin with) had been broken by their back and forth teasing, but for some reason Sal didn’t mind. It felt… natural? The way things were going. He liked it. 

 

“Okay, okay, real talk. You just wanna jerk off together?”

 

Sal unfolded himself a bit, uncrossing his arms and letting his shoulders relax.

 

“Yeah… if that’s okay. Maybe touching later, I don’t know, I just… wanna see you.”

 

Larry nodded slightly, seemingly thinking about something, but then nodded with more conviction. He leaned back in to kiss Sal’s forehead. 

 

“Okay,” he mumbled into the skin, and moved more into Sal’s space, caging him in with one hand on his shoulder and the other hand supporting himself on the bed next to Sal’s legs.

 

Sal welcomed it; Larry’s arms always felt like home.

 

Larry probably intended for his next kiss to be on Sal’s nose, always taking his time with him, but Sal tilted his head up at the last second to press their lips together. 

 

Sal pulled back minutely, enough to be able to say, “kiss me.”

 

“I am.” Larry tried to chase his mouth, but Sal maintained the small distance.

 

“Yeah, but… don’t stop this time.”

 

The sentence was so vague, but Sal knew that Larry understood when his face noticeably warmed. They’d always pulled apart when things got too hot and heavy, but not tonight. Sal’s stomach tied itself into nervous knots at the thought, but it was a new kind of nervous. A good kind of nervous. They’d take care of each other.

 

Larry swallowed thickly.

 

“I think I can do that.”

 

Sal smiled and, feeling spurred on by Larry’s blushing, whispered, “Woo me, Johnson.”

 

Larry returned Sal’s smile with a grin of his own and dove back in, continuing their kiss, and this time Sal had no intention of interrupting him.

 

Their lips moved against each other languidly in a familiar push-and-pull, a far cry from their first experience in making out. By now, they had done it enough that they matched each other’s rhythm, learned each other’s weaknesses; Larry’s breath quickened whenever Sal gently bit his bottom lip, and Sal really, really liked Larry’s tongue. Sal hoped that maybe, one day, he could learn and memorize the rest of Larry’s body the way he had his lips. The thought made his stomach do a flip, and he reached up to curl his fingers into the collar of Larry’s shirt, tugging at it. Not hard enough to actually pull him down, but incessant enough that Larry knew what he wanted without being told. 

 

Without breaking the kiss, Sal leaned until his back hit the bed, Larry following and nudging Sal’s legs to lay on either side of him and bracket him in. When they were settled, Sal pulled away to drink in the sight of his boyfriend. He loved having Larry above him like this, arms on either side of him and his thick brown hair hanging down like a canopy, shielding them from the world. It reminded Sal of that scene from The Little Mermaid, where they’re in the boat and surrounded by the hanging branches of willow trees. That was embarrassingly sappy, and Sal quickly decided he’d only ever voice that thought if he were on his deathbed. If even then.

 

Sal reached up and wiped the drool away from his mouth, a habit of his from embarrassment about the gash in his bottom lip that exposed some of his gums and teeth; thankfully, embarrassment that had mostly subsided. He always drooled when they kissed for too long, and Larry never expressed discomfort or revulsion, never even brought it up, something Sal would be eternally grateful for, but he still wiped his chin with the back of a hand whenever they broke apart. Old habits die hard.

 

But then Larry reached up and caressed the more wounded side of Sal’s face, a gesture so deliberate and soft it made him positively melt; Larry read him like an open fucking book, always reaching over and stroking Sal’s scars whenever he felt even the least bit self-conscious, like they were something to be treasured.

 

Sal suddenly needed more. More of Larry. Anything he had to give, anything he wanted to show him, Sal would touch and feel and commit it to memory, anything to repay the immeasurable kindness Larry had always shown him that he still occasionally wondered if he deserved.

 

“Can you take off your shirt?” He asked, and his voice came out light and breathy, like they were already… doing it, instead of only just beginning.

 

Larry nodded, but he first leaned down and pressed a gentle, barely-there kiss against the bridge of Sal’s nose, in between his eyes, making him smile. He then pushed up to sit back on his heels, staring down at Sal and biting his lip for a moment, before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head, and  _ wow _ Sal would never ever get tired of watching him do that. He couldn’t help but reach a hand out and touch, skimming his hand up Larry’s defined abs, up his chest to rest over his heart.

 

Larry started working out regularly during the summer before their senior year; when Sal had asked why he had claimed it was so he could carry him around without getting tired, and Sal was too busy blushing and hiding his face to bring it up again. Whatever the reason was, it was surely appreciated. Larry’s body still had a boyish quality to it; they were both eighteen, now, but only just barely. But his biceps had noticeably bulked up, his abdomen becoming more defined in what was the beginnings of a six-pack. Sal would love Larry in any body, but boy oh boy was he fucking living for the muscle.

 

Sal pressed his hand against Larry’s warm skin, feeling his heartbeat-- noticeably faster than normal, but he didn’t comment on it, given he probably wasn’t any better off. Larry’s cheeks flushed under the attention, but he didn’t break eye contact, even though Sal knew he probably wanted to. Larry got weird about his looks when he was having bad days, and Sal knew the intrusive thoughts that often plagued his boyfriend’s mind were not kind to him about his appearance. 

 

“N-Now you,” Larry said, only stammering a little bit, and Sal sat up and retreated his roaming hand to remove his own shirt without any preamble, even though he wasn’t especially fond of his own looks either. What a perfect mess they were.

 

Sal tossed his shirt to the floor and flopped back down onto his back. Larry seemed more comfortable now, either because they were on even ground now in terms of clothedness or because he was too busy ogling Sal. Probably a little bit of both; his pupils were blown wide, and Sal had never really understood the term “eye-fucking” until just then. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry, as his dick stiffened inside the confines of his jeans. 

 

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Larry sighed, his voice carried on a rushed exhale, making Sal’s face heat up. 

 

“Kiss me,” Sal commanded in lieu of a reply, because what could he say to that? How could he adequately respond to such open and unabashed admiration? He could return the compliment, very easily in fact, but he didn’t want Larry to feel like Sal was trying to one-up him.

 

Larry complied with enthusiasm, his hands finding Sal’s in the space between their bodies and intertwining their fingers. He moved their linked hands to either side of Sal’s head, pressing down hard enough that the mattress noticeably sunk under the weight, and the subtle show of strength made Sal’s heart flutter for reasons he didn’t understand and currently didn’t want to try to understand.

 

Unable to move his hands, Sal arched his back under Larry, their bodies pressing together from their chests to their stomachs as they kissed and it was  _ delicious _ . Sal hadn’t touched his dick once, but he was hard as a rock, throbbing in time with his pulse inside his jeans. Harder than he’d ever been in his fucking life, probably.

 

They rarely parted, and when they did it was only to breathe or change the angle, never leaving each other’s space. Sal was in heaven, but his fingers were falling asleep, so he wiggled his hands in Larry’s grip until he let go, instead supporting himself on an elbow and carding the other hand through Sal’s hair. With his hands available, Sal was free to indulge himself, wrapping his arms around Larry and touching and feeling and grabbing at everything above the belt that he could reach. He could feel Larry’s muscles stretching and contracting whenever he moved, and it was mesmerizing in a way it probably shouldn’t have been, just observing Larry’s body. Sal could probably get off within minutes just stopping and staring at Larry, watching him just… be. Why the fuck hadn’t they done this before? 

 

In his exploration, Sal found his hands skimming the waistband of Larry’s pants and he froze. Could he… touch down there too? Maybe? Sal didn’t know how long they had to make out for before he could do that. Was there a standard amount of time?

 

Larry noticed his hesitation and broke their kiss. An apology was already on the tip of Sal’s tongue when Larry made eye contact, making Sal feel like he was burning to ash under his gaze. Saying nothing, the only sounds coming from him being his slightly labored breathing, Larry reached down behind him, took one of Sal’s trembling hands, and slowly but deliberately moved it to cup his ass, never breaking eye contact, and Sal just about combusted.

 

“Fuck,  _ Lar _ \--” It was like a dam had burst, because suddenly they were moving, and they were  _ touching _ , their dicks were  _ touching through their pants, holy shit _ . Somewhere in their rush to try and crawl under each other’s skin or something Sal’s legs had spread, his knees bent and his feet limp in the air. Larry slotted between his thighs perfectly, pushing and thrusting and grinding against him while Sal encouraged his movements with his hands on his ass, cupping and squeezing and digging his fingers in as much as he could with the unforgiving denim of Larry’s jeans, and suddenly Sal wanted them off, very much in fact.

 

He’d expected the thought of actually taking pants off to be scary, as it had been before this, but somehow it wasn’t. Nerve-wracking, sure, but not scary. 

 

Sal turned his head out of the kiss to get Larry’s attention and say something sexy.

 

“I think it’s pants off time.”

 

That wasn’t sexy.

 

Or maybe it was, because Larry bit his lip. Maybe they were just weird.

 

“I’m… kind of nervous,” Larry admitted with a chuckle, his laugh breathy and airy and more like a sigh with how he was breathing harder than usual. Sal couldn’t help but kiss him again, just real quick.

 

“Me too.” He paused. “We could do it at the same time? Take off our pants, I mean.”

 

“Okay… on three?”

 

If Larry could ignore just how fucking lame this was, Sal could do. Plus, he couldn’t really think of anything better. “I guess.”

 

Larry straightened up and shuffled back a little bit to give Sal room to sit up. With the added space, Sal could freely glance down at Larry’s crotch and, yeah, he was hard. Of course, Sal had felt it when they were grinding-- how could he not?-- but it was still really, really hot to actually see it. And an ego booster. But he looked away when Larry started counting.

 

“One--” “Wait!”

 

Larry looked up at him, bewildered. “What?”

 

“Okay, I said pants, earlier... but we’re doing pants and underwear, right?”

 

Larry still looked bewildered, but for an entirely different reason. Probably from the sheer stupidity of Sal’s question. God, this conversation was so not sexy, Sal was lucky he was hormonal and his boner was persistent.

 

“I was under that impression, yes.” Larry’s voice was slightly sarcastic, and Sal’s ears burned.

 

“Well I just wanted to be sure in case I was wrong and I ended up being the only one with my dick out,” He retorted, and Larry huffed out a half-laugh and shook his head.

 

“Can I count now?”

 

“Be my guest.”

 

“Okay… one,”

 

Sal looked away from Larry again and down at his own lap. He didn’t want to preemptively ready his hands or something, because the point of this was so they did it at the same time, not to see who could rip their pants off the fastest. Wow, this was really lame.

 

“Two… three.”

 

The three seemingly came literal years after the two, but once the word was out of Larry’s mouth Sal’s hands were on his jeans. He tried not to rush, even though his heart was racing, because Larry was wearing a belt and needed a couple extra seconds than Sal did. So he deliberately undid the button rather slowly. Sal refused to look up, in case he… saw, and instead waited until he heard the sound of Larry’s zipper to continue.

 

Somehow, the sight of his own erection made him blush, like he was seeing it for the first time. Well, he kinda was, in a way. In a new light. Maybe.

 

Neither of them looked at each other as they shimmied out of their remaining clothes, but Sal realized with horror that he was still wearing his converse and he couldn’t get his skinny jeans off over them.

 

“Okay, please don’t look at me,” He said with as much desperation as he knew how to put in his voice as he scrambled to undo his laces and shove his shoes off, but his trembling fingers made loosening the laces a lot more difficult.

 

Sal was going to die, here and now. He was going to physically rot and die.

 

All of a sudden Sal felt almost on the verge of tears, because his hands were shaking even more now from the sheer humiliation from being stuck with his fucking pants around his knees and this was supposed to be  _ hot _ and--

 

Suddenly Larry’s hands were in his field of vision, and they were batting his away and finishing the job for him, but his hands were unsure and seemed to miss a couple times when he went to loosen the tongue of Sal’s converse, and it was then that he realized Larry had his fucking eyes closed.

 

Sal put his face in his hands and curled in on himself.

 

“You can’t be fucking real,” he groaned quietly.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nothing. Just, thanks… this is really dumb.”

 

Sal could practically hear Larry grinning as he pulled his jeans and underwear off for him, taking his socks with them.

 

“I’m the one getting you naked with my eyes closed.”

 

“You’re only getting me naked with your eyes closed because I’m a fucking tool.”

 

Larry pried Sal’s hands away and kissed his forehead.

 

“Maybe I like tools.”

 

And that was just too fucking much sappy shit for one day, so Sal shoved Larry away half-heartedly. Larry laughed the way he always did whenever he said something that got Sal flustered and let himself be pushed, sitting back on his heels again. They were back to where they were before, except… wow, they were naked. Like. Really naked, and… there  _ it _ was.

 

Sal’s first thought was,  _ gee, that’s kinda big, huh? _ Maybe without the ‘gee’ but the sentiment held true. Larry’s dick was… pretty big. There really weren’t any ifs or buts about it. If he had to hazard a guess, Sal would say maybe eight and a half, nine inches, and thick to boot, surrounded by a tastefully trimmed patch of dark, wiry hair. He was uncircumcised, unlike Sal, but with how hard he was the foreskin only covered up to the crown. His dick stuck more outwards instead of up, and the thought that it was probably weighing itself down made Sal’s stomach do a flip. There was something almost… beautiful about it? Weird. Sal hadn’t really ever thought about whether he found penises attractive or not, but, well… today was a day of discovery, he guessed.

 

Sal’s second thought was,  _ I want that in my mouth _ , but that was a little too much for him at the moment, so he moved onto his third thought, which was--

 

“Why’s yours so much bigger than mine?”

 

Well, okay, so much bigger might’ve been a little much, but there was a very noticeable difference, and Sal felt a little self-conscious. 

 

Larry pursed his lips a little bit and stopped ogling Sal to look down at himself, thinking.

 

“I’m a big dude. You’re a little dude.” He concluded after a few seconds, and Sal supposed that made sense. Proportions and shit.

 

Larry looked back at him and his lips thinned out the way they did when he was trying not to smile, which of course made Sal try-not-to-smile back.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Larry said, and he finally just let himself grin, looking away from Sal and at some point on the wall. “You’re just really pretty, s’all. Can I say that?”

 

The gay disaster part of Sal (which was, admittedly, most of him) was preening.  _ God, please fucking do _ . 

 

“I mean, sure. If you want to.”

 

Larry hummed, and then glanced back at him.

 

“Can you jack off now? I wanna see it.”

 

Sal spluttered-- how could he just say shit like that so  _ casually _ \-- but his dick visibly bobbed at the prospect, and Larry definitely noticed because his eyes narrowed and his grin became mischievous instead of heartfelt.

 

Sal huffed and twisted around to put some pillows behind his back, muttering, “F-Fine, just don’t… be weird about it.” 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sally Face.”

 

Sal leaned back, wiggling his shoulders a little to sink further into the pillows. He’d usually spit in his hand, but that seemed a little barbaric so he instead licked his palm and hoped it was hot before wrapping his hand around himself, resting the other on his thigh. 

 

He went about it how he normally did, a familiar process given that he was a teenage boy with a lot of free time and untamed raging hormones to spare. Sal started slow, just feeling himself, his grip loose as he moved from root to tip, spreading the saliva along his length to make the glide easier. 

 

Larry was watching him intently, and Sal thought he would be nervous which, to be fair, he was a little bit, but more than anything he  _ liked _ the attention. With Larry’s dark eyes burning holes into him and his dick visibly hard from what he was seeing, Sal could forget all about his blundering failure from earlier and instead feel… desired. Larry always made him feel wanted, but this was very, very different.

 

Sal slid his free hand down to cup his balls. It didn’t feel moan-worthy good yet, but he still bit his lip, just to put on a little bit of a show. It definitely worked, since Larry reached down and palmed at himself and started talking.

 

“You’re really hot, you know that?” Larry said, and his voice had a roughness to it that it didn’t have before. “Fuck, I’ve thought about this so much, about you spread out all pretty for me and showing me how you get yourself off.”

 

Sal’s next exhale was a sigh, and he found himself spreading his thighs out a little more at Larry’s words. Something about him using the phrase ‘for me’ made Sal positively weak because yes, of course it was for him, it was all for him. Larry’s voice was always comforting to him, but now it simultaneously made him feel like he was floating and was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, and Sal held on to every word. 

 

“I don’t think there’s been a time when I’ve jerked off without thinking of you since I was a fucking sophomore, dude, you’re so fucking hot, just--” Larry took himself in hand, stroking slowly and deliberately, and Sal was absolutely mesmerized by the push and pull of his foreskin as Larry worked his hand up and down his length and the gentle but deep baritone of his voice, filled the air. 

 

Larry licked his lips to wet them before continuing. “Thank you for this. I wanted to wait, wait and go at your pace, but fuck, I’ve woken up with morning wood ‘cause of you more times in the last month than I can fucking count, shit was getting bad.”

 

Sal felt his cock throb in his hand at the mental image of Larry hard, in this bed, right where Sal was fucking sitting, all because of  _ him _ . He groaned quietly, and it wasn’t just for show. Who knew how much better masturbation could be when you added someone else into the mix?

 

“I just— fuck, I want you so bad,” Larry hissed, his lips parted and his breaths noticeably faster than normal, and some kind of gay sex god must’ve possessed Sal because out of nowhere he felt himself talking right back.

 

“Yeah? You want me?” Sal asked, even though they both knew the answer was a big fat  _ fuck yes _ , and he surprised himself with how… sexual his voice sounded. It seemed to surprise Larry, too, because he stilled and just looked at Sal, like he hadn’t been expecting him to respond.

 

He swallowed thickly but pressed on, taking advantage of this new burst of confidence while he could. 

 

“I-I think about you too, you know. A lot.” Sal’s voice wavered slightly, but he knew he had Larry’s attention. “This morning, after I texted you, I t-took a shower, and I… thought about you.”

 

Sal wasn’t sure how much more he could elaborate before his confidence ran out, but Larry’s hand was pumping himself again, and he looked at Sal with so much intensity he could drown in it. 

 

“You did?” Larry asked, obviously spurring Sal on to continue, so he cleared his throat and kept talking.

 

“Yeah, I did. I wanted to clean myself up for this,” Sal gulped, his throat suddenly very dry, “fo-for you. And I thought about… what kinds of things you might want to do. And I thought about making you feel good, and I got a semi, just from that.”

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,“ Larry cursed, spitting out the word like it was forced out of his mouth. “God, you’re so good, Sal, you’d make me feel so good, wish I had been there in the shower with you.”

 

Sal subconsciously sat up a little straighter. Hearing Larry compliment him like that made him feel pleasant and tingly all over in ways he only had ever experienced when he got high.

 

“What’d you think about, babe? C’mon, tell me,” Larry’s voice carried a hint of desperation that Sal would’ve missed if he hadn’t known him so well, and it suddenly occurred to him that Larry might have… a  _ thing _ for talking dirty. He never thought that either of them might have a  _ thing _ for something. Maybe he was wrong, but now was as good a time as any to experiment.

 

“I— I thought about—“ Sal’s words died in his throat, and it took him another two tries before he finally forced them out; “...s-sucking your dick.”

 

Making himself say that had been agonizingly embarrassing, but the effect was immediate. Larry fucking  _ gasped _ , and the hand not wrapped around his cock reached out and gripped Sal’s thigh. If his boyfriend gasping like that was the last sound he ever heard, Sal would die a happy man. 

 

“I imagined being on my knees, with you looking down at me,” relaying the image to Larry brought Sal back into the fantasy, and he found that the more he talked the more he got into it. “a-and petting my hair, and telling me I’m doing good… would you do that, Lar? Would you do that while I s-sucked you off?”

 

It was clumsy, and stilted, and not at all as languid or poetic as something Larry himself could come up with, but he seemed to appreciate it all the same. The sounds of his hand on his dick were audibly wet and sticky, but Sal didn’t have any brain cells to spare to be embarrassed about such a dirty sound. He was too busy watching Larry’s hand, trying to memorize how he masturbated so that Sal could hopefully replicate it later. Larry alternated between quick strokes up and down the entire length and focusing on the head, tightening his grip and twisting his hand a little as he moved, before going back to paying attention to the whole thing. 

 

“Shit, of course I’d do that, Sal, babe, anything you want,” Larry moaned, and he let go of Sal’s thigh to instead plant his hand behind him and lean back on it, leaving his long torso completely open and exposed for Sal to ogle. Larry was coming undone right before his eyes, and had it not been from muscle memory Sal would’ve stopped masturbating entirely, so enraptured with his boyfriend that his own pleasure had become an afterthought. 

 

But… anything he wants, huh? 

 

“I want to see your face when you cum,” Sal said, somehow managing to get it out without stuttering or his voice cracking.

 

“Jesus fuck,” Larry gasped, his voice noticeably strained as his hand a blur as he desperately fisted his cock, “keep going, babe, and you’ll fucking see it.”

 

Sal hadn’t noticed he’d been leaning in until he felt the cool air of the room on his back, where it had previously been against the pillows, but he didn’t even feel embarrassed about his eagerness. Larry was too far gone to probably notice, and besides, if Sal didn’t get a closer look at that bead of sweat dripping down between his pecs he thought he might fucking die.

 

“Are you gonna cum?”

 

“Oh fuck yes—“

 

“C’mon, let me see it, I want it, give it to me—“

 

“Holy fucking hell,  _ Sal— _ “

 

They were babbling back and forth to each other, Sal not even having a chance to think about the absolute filth he was saying before it tumbled out of his mouth, but then with one more cut-off shout of “Sal—!” Larry was tilting his head back and climaxing, the movements of his hand on his dick becoming uneven jerks as he canted his hips up into his grip as he groaned. Each time he thrust his hips up cum spurted from his cock, landing in thick globs on his abs, which Sal noted where visibly flexing and contracting under his skin in what what was a contender for the hottest fucking display he had ever seen, until Larry’s moans turned into weaker gasps and the jets of semen dwindled down into weak little dribbles that dripped from the slit and stuck to his hand. He came… a lot, Sal noticed. Maybe it was because his dick was big? Was there any connection there?

 

After a little while, Larry’s hand stilled, just loosely holding his softening erection, and he brought his head back up to look at Sal with glassy, half-lidded eyes. Labored breaths escaped through his parted lips, but one side of his mouth still quirked up in a dreamy, lopsided grin.

 

Holy shit. 

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Larry chuckled half-heartedly, but his smile weakened when he looked down at Sal’s crotch.

 

“You haven’t finished yet?” He asked, concern evident in his voice. 

 

“Dude, you could, like, breath on me and I’d spill immediately I’m so fucking hard right now.”

 

Larry pursed his lips and blew air in his direction and Sal wanted to rip his own heart out just so he could be spared from the overwhelming, all-encompassing fucking  _ love _ he felt for this dumb stoner. With that option clearly out of reach, he settled for counting backwards from ten and taking deep breaths.

 

“For real, though, could you go back to talking?” Sal asked once he had calmed down some. 

 

Larry snickered. “You want me to tell you you’re pretty?”

 

“I need masturbation fuel, not a dramatic reading of your diary.”

 

Larry laughed at that, and Sal grinned, pleased by his reaction. It was comforting, how even though he had just described dick sucking fantasies to his boyfriend and practically begged him to cum, they still fell back into their familiar dynamic. Which was good, considering a trip back to Explicit Sexual Fantasy Town seemed to be in order. 

 

Larry hummed and sat up, although with a significantly slouched posture, and reached a hand to slide up and down Sal’s thigh. 

 

“I noticed some stuff, y’know. While you were talking earlier.” He commented almost thoughtfully, looking down at his hand on Sal’s thigh.

 

“I know you told me it was diary shit, but…” Larry looked up through his dark lashes. “you like being complimented, don’t you?”

 

Sal froze, but Larry didn’t stop.

 

“Complimented, praised, told how good you’re doing.”

 

It wasn’t phrased like a question anymore. 

 

Oh fuck. He did, didn’t he?

 

“It’s not weird or anything,” Larry must’ve seen the gears turning in Sal’s head and quickly assured him, “it’s actually kinda hot. ‘Cause you deserve it, y’know. And I like making you all blushy.”

 

Well that was certainly great, because Sal was bright red, now, but his erection was harder than ever.

 

“Now that we’re good with all of, y’know, this, some time I’d like to just have a day with you all to myself. No clothes, just your body, all for me.”

 

Sal cursed under his breath and resumed stroking himself, relaxing against the pillows at his back. He imagined it; completely naked, sitting in Larry’s lap, or laying in bed with him. It made him feel warm inside, and not just because of arousal.

 

“I’d pay attention to every part of you. My hands would be all over you, every fucking inch. You like the sound of that?” Larry’s had increased the pressure of his hand on Sal’s thigh, massaging and rubbing the muscle with the heel of his palm, as if mimicking the fantasy.

 

“Y-Yes,” Sal answered, and it came out a broken whine. He was close already; Larry always knew exactly what to say to take him apart. 

 

“I wanna hold you, and kiss you, and touch you, and make you cum over and over until you can’t even breathe.”

 

Sal’s body was absolutely burning, each word from Larry’s mouth like gasoline being poured over a fire, and suddenly he was begging, “Please, Larry, please—“

 

“Please what?”

 

What was he even begging for?

 

“Touch me, please god touch me, I can’t take it,  _ please! _ ”

 

They hadn’t talked about touching. Touching was not what they had agreed on. But Sal felt that if he didn’t feel Larry’s hand on him he genuinely might burst into tears right then and there. 

 

Larry was visibly caught off guard by the audible desperation, but Sal didn’t care, he  _ needed _ him right the fuck now, he was so close his balls were aching and his dick was practically leaking precum.

 

“O-Okay, I’ve got you, dude, fuck,” Larry’s voice was a bit more wobbly than before but he reached out and covered Sal’s hand jacking himself off with his own, completely dwarfing it and Sal was  _ gone _ . 

 

He made an embarrassing noise somewhere between a gasp and a full-blown sob as he came, slapping his other hand over Larry’s to keep it wrapped around his dick and fucking up into their combined grip with twitchy, uneven thrusts of his hips and coating their hands in cum. 

 

Sal’s body shook and spasmed even after the last dribbles of cum had left him.

 

“...Sal? You with me, man?” Larry’s voice sounded far away, and Sal opened his eyes, not realizing he had squeezed them shut. 

 

He nodded and smiled half-heartedly before slowly letting go of his cock, jumping slightly when he accidentally brushed the head. 

 

Sal exhaled deeply and jerked his head to flick his bangs out of his eyes, considering both of his hands were all… jizzy.

 

“Lemme go get us some tissues.” Larry made to get up, but Sal shook his head.

 

“Can you just… stay here a while? Please.” 

 

Sal felt vulnerable in a way he had never really experienced before. He didn’t know how to put it into words, but he really needed Larry close.

 

Larry looked like he was about to argue, but Sal frowned at him, and he just groaned dramatically.

 

“Ugh, fine.”

 

He looked around for a second, and then swung one leg over the end of the bed, stretching it and picking up a discard shirt between his toes. 

 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Sal asked, but he was laughing. 

 

“I’m not gonna have dried jizz on me, dude. It gets flaky.” Larry retorted as he reached down and took the shirt with his not-filthy hand. He turned it inside out and wiped his torso off first, then his hand, before turning to Sal and cleaning his skin with a much gentler touch. It made him shiver, since he was still sensitive, but he smiled shyly as thanks.

 

Once he was satisfied, Larry bundled the now contaminated shirt up, sticking his tongue out in disgust, and then tossed it across the room at the laundry basket, not even watching to see if he made the shot. 

 

Then things were quiet. Just two bros, sitting with their dicks out, not really sure what to say. 

 

For once, Sal spoke up first. 

 

“Should we like… talk about this?” He asked, if only because he felt like he was supposed to. 

 

Larry glanced at him. 

 

“Is there anything to talk about?”

 

Sal wanted to talk about the fact that he now knew he got off to kind words, or that Larry had a dirty talking fetish, or how Sal had gotten borderline  _ emotional _ during his orgasm, but it didn’t feel like the right time. 

 

“Hm… later. I’m kinda tired.”

 

“Me too. Scoot over.”

 

Sal moved to the side and shimmied the covers out from under him so Larry could pull them over the two of them. 

 

He settled into one of his usual spots, his head against Larry’s chest, hugging his middle, while Larry draped an arm around his shoulders. 

 

Larry reached over to his nightstand and pulled out his Gearboy, a Christmas gift Sal had saved money for for six months. Not that Larry knew that. 

 

“Wanna watch me play?”

 

Sal was happy, and he could definitely settle for that. The talking could wait. 

 

“Sure.”

 

He snuggled closer to get a better view, and Larry took the opportunity to press a kiss on the top of his head.

 

“Love you, Sally Face.”

 

“Love you too, Larry Face.”

 

Sal fell asleep watching Larry play Pokemon Yellow like they hadn’t just gotten each other off and wiped up their spunk with Larry’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the author does not condone wiping up cum with ur shirt and then putting it in the laundry with the rest of ur clothes
> 
> also i narrowly resisted the urge to include a bunch of dumb euphemisms for masturbation and semen bc you absolutely know they would go there
> 
> also also please ignore the way there are spaces in between italicized words and punctuation ao3 does that automatically when i paste shit over from google docs and my fingers are about to fall off so im leaving it as is


	7. small update + preview

hey so uh im not dead and contrary to popular belief neither is this fic 

i graduated high school this year and so that kinda took up my entire fucking life. i still dont think i rly have the energy to reply to comments i get on this fic but please know i do read them and they make my fucking week. 

but the next chapter is in the process of being written so stay tuned and thx everyone for your patience the hamsters running on wheels to power my brain are doing their very best 

as an apology for disappearing for six months here's part of what i have so far. expect the full thing in the next week or two (god willing) 

p.s. if yall have any suggestions for stuff for sal and larry to experiment with or situations for them to be in please feel free to comment. 99% chance i wont do all of them but if i really like something i might include it. keep in mind they arent doing penetrative sex yet and whatever youve got (if sexual) would have to be pretty vanilla. 

i do have an idea for an, ahem. paint-focused chapter (inspired by that one gay sex scene from the french movie, yall know the one) but logistically i think that may have to wait until theyre older and lisa moves out lol anyways heres the preview 

\--

Surprisingly, given how slow they had wanted to take things previously, the Mutual Masturbation Incident as it had been dubbed really seemed to jumpstart Sal and Larry’s sexual relationship.

Before putting that particular plan in motion, when Sal thought about what things would be like going forward, he kind of expected to get naked with Larry and do whatever it was they were going to do and then, like, not think about it for at least six months. Except one thing just lead to another, as it often does, and three days later Sal was sitting in Larry’s lap on his bed and grinding against him while they made the fuck out. Even though they didn’t cross any new lines then, it was still a learning experience all around. Sal came to find out that cumming in your pants is possibly one of the most uncomfortable experiences a human could possibly have, right up there with getting x-rays at the dentist and having to bite down on that weird clunky plastic thing. Both affairs Sal wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy.

Moral of the story, they could stand to take fifteen seconds to actually get their dicks out.

But things just kept going from there; the two of them just kept finding themselves in situations that could inexplicably be made a lot better if they got super fucking naked, and almost all of Sal’s previous anxiety seemed to have disappeared. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe because, now that he’d actually experienced it, he felt less like he had to perform or live up to some expectation. Or maybe it was because Sal knew now what he had been missing, and no fucking way was he gonna go back to living without it.

So, naturally, rather than half a year later, the prospect of raising the bar again came up a little over two weeks after the Mutual Masturbation Incident.


End file.
